


He Never Promised Her A Rose Garden

by Corycides



Series: Hands On [3]
Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nora Clayton was bad-ass, ruthless and competent - but sometimes that doesn't feel like enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Never Promised Her A Rose Garden

 

Nora waited for Miles until she realised he wasn't coming. Then she went back inside and crawled fully-dressed into her narrow, creaking bunk. The cold had sunk down into her bones and she desperately wanted someone to hug her and tell her it was going to be all right. She made do with the scratchy wool blanket, pulling it up to her chin and tight around her shoulders.

She saw the other rebels looking at her sometimes like they couldn't believe the words coming out of her mouth. She didn't blame them. There were times she was there, just a pace behind the words, trying to grab them back.

_'He's General Miles Matheson.'_

_'If anyone can do, it is Miles Matheson.'_

_'Look, here comes General Miles Matheson to save the day!'_

She was Nora Clayton: ruthless, bad-ass and the second most wanted person in the Monroe Republic. So why was she cheering Miles on like he was Captain of the football team and she was still a 13 year old on the pep squad. All she needed was a pair of bloody pom-poms.

Nora hated it, but she just couldn't _stop._ It was like he was the moon and she was sort of were-Laura Ingalls. Especially now, since he saved the damsel from the dragon.

Bad-ass and ruthless just didn't seem enough. Not when your rival was Rachel Matheson, brave, brilliant and broken like a china doll. She was _tragic,_ how could you fight with that? Even trying made you the villain.

So she just turned herself into this awful, _useful_ Nice Girl, being awesome and supportive and hoping that he'd look at her one day and go, 'Oh, you were here all along'. When really – and she _knew_ it, she _did_ – he was going to look at her one day and go, 'Oh, you'll do'.

It hadn't always been like that.

She snorted and rolled over onto her back. Or maybe it had, she'd always been the one doing the chasing hadn't she?

25lbs of gold and the reputation of being the bounty hunter who caught Miles Matheson? Even now, 5 years and a tectonic shift in allegiance later, the thought made her tingle. Happiness had been a lot simpler back then. Relationships too. Love 'em, and lock them up – that had been her motto.

She'd picked Miles up in a low dive just over the Georgia border. It was pushing her luck to be there. Technically, as a Texan she was just about as welcome as she was anywhere else, but if anyone caught her dragging a prisoner back towards the Republic border they'd figure out who she was working for quick enough.

Hair down and tits up – she didn't want to boast, but she was pretty sure she had the last Wonderbra in the Republic that wasn't kept solely for the use of Monroe's mistresses – and a nice girly squeal when someone grabbed her ass... Miles didn't stand a chance.

Nora lifted her knee, tenting the blanket, and sucked her stomach in to slip her hand under her waistband. Her fingers cupped her sex through the thin, damp cotton of her panties, her hips lifting.

He'd been wiry and wired, the stink of all sorts of death all over him. Just the type that made her – her fingers slid her labia apart and a fingertip nudged her clitoris – wet. She'd told him her name was Lynsey Addario and fucked him on the floor, cheap motel carpet leaving rug burns on her knees.

Rough fingers pulled her tits out of the cup of her bra, leaving them high and displayed as he scraped tongue and teeth over her nipples. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, digging bloody crescents, and pleasure tight and hungry in her stomach as she came. She still didn't know whether it was sexier to be fucking General Matheson or fucking him _over_.

Nora curled her toes against the thin mattress and bit her lip, pushing her panties to the side and sliding her fingers over slick, wet flesh. Her breath was and quick against her lips and she remembered the taste of him as she crawled down to wrap her mouth around his cock. Dark curls tangling over his thighs as she trailed her tongue over the tight, fine skin of his cock and-

She skipped that bit – his groan of 'god, Rachel' as he came hurting _now_ although it had just been a weapon to remember then – and moved ahead to her standing hipshot at the end of the bed, dangling a length of rope from one hand. 'It could be fun.'

It had been...especially when he woke up face down over her horse the next morning.

Her lips tilted at the memory of him swearing. She'd grown up around hard people, been running with the Rangers when she was 16, and she still learnt a few new words.

He got loose, of course. Different story otherwise and she liked this one. Miles face-down between her thighs while she was tied to a tree and cursing him for a bastard; her blowing up a bridge to get him away from another bounty hunter and crawling on top of him because explosions always made her horny. It had been a game, a violent, sexy game that was going to kill one of them.

Him, preferably.

Then he kissed her, and it wasn't a trick or a game or anything else she expected. His hands slid through her hair, cupping her skull, and his mouth was gentle and tasted of too many nights on the road and dust.

'You're something special, Lynsey,' he told her.

'Nora,' she told him, standing on her tiptoes and tugging his head back down. It was hot and sweet and they'd made love by the fire, and after that it was them against the world. Or the Monroe Republic and at the time it seemed like the same thing.

She came with a muscle-melting shudder, silent as when her little sister had been one sleeping bag away, and dropped her knee flat on her bed. Her body was limp and relaxed, warmth soaking through her until the cold was gone and she thought she could sleep.

Except that had been the problem hadn't it? He'd thought Lynsey was something special, maybe, but she hadn't been real.  


End file.
